


A Real Actual Live Cop

by jonnyhustle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Chicago Blackhawks, Deputy Jonathan Toews, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Patrick Sharp Is a Troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:57:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonnyhustle/pseuds/jonnyhustle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Cop!Jonny turns up to shut Kaner's party down, only Kaner assumes he's a stripper. Cops don't look like that, right?</p>
<p>
  <i></i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"The pitiful excuses that fall from his mouth whenever someone asks for the occasion only seem to hype it up further. He just says the first thing that he can think of. This, of course, means that there’s a handful of his teammates who think they’re coming over to celebrate the fact he got the ice machine in his fridge fixed; that he finally found that one porn he’s been looking for for years now, or; Sharpy finally lost his virginity. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i> <br/>Still, though, that doesn’t explain the stripper."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Real Actual Live Cop

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic I've written in the hockey fandom, so my characterisations might be incredibly wrong and I apologise in advance. Comments are very much appreciated if you have any.
> 
> This fic was inspired by a post of [puckbutts](http://puckbutts.tumblr.com) as well as a couple of prompts that were floating around Tumblr (which I can no longer find). It also has similarities with a plot arc of Jane the Virgin, and I imagine, as professional writers, they did it a lot better.

Kaner’s thrown a lot of parties in his time, but usually he at least tries to come with a reason to throw them. In high school, it was because his parents were away and they couldn’t say no even if they retroactively tried to. In college, well, it was because he didn’t go to college, and that was cause for celebration enough when his friends were letting off steam after finals. 

Then he got drafted, and the party he threw celebrating that is probably only winding down now – a good seven years later. So, it’s not as if he’s a stranger to partying. 

There are sites on the Internet that will go bankrupt if Patrick Kane ever stops his partying lifestyle. 

Still, he has to admit, this has gotten a little ridiculous. 

The pitiful excuses that fall from his mouth whenever someone asks for the occasion only seem to hype it up further. He just says the first thing that he can think of. This, of course, means that there’s a handful of his teammates who think they’re coming over to celebrate the fact he got the ice machine in his fridge fixed; that he finally found that one porn he’s been looking for for years now, or; Sharpy finally lost his virginity. 

Sharpy had just shaken his head when he heard that one, muttering, “You know I have two daughters,” under his breath in the face of one Patrick Kane’s stupidity.

So, he made the excuses and it became bigger than anything he had tried to organise before. The morning of he received texts from people asking if it was okay to bring +1s, if he was sure the ice machine was fixed or should they bring around a bag just in case, and, one that just said, “this isn’t going to turn into a circle jerk, is it?” 

Kaner laughed so hard he had to sit down to regain his breath before replying with a simple, “That’s the plan.”

People start trickling in an hour after he told them to arrive, but that’s okay. He’s been pre-gaming on Skype with his sister, catching up on news from home. She immediately asks about the party, about the excuses he’s been throwing out to his teammates, and he vows to find out just who she’s been talking to because someone on the team is either snitching or hitting on her and he doesn’t know which one is worse. 

The music’s already pretty loud by the time the team turns up, but that doesn’t stop him from changing playlists and putting it on max volume. Soon, his apartment has more people than is strictly advisable, and he’s probably breaking the fire code or something but he doesn’t care. 

Everyone is congratulating him on what he doesn’t even know, but this thing is huge. It’s bigger than any of his birthday celebrations; any of the teams’ birthdays combined. 

Still, though, that doesn’t explain the stripper. 

Patrick’s leaning up against his doorframe, trying to look cool even though he’s on the verge of sweating straight vodka. 

“So,” he says, deliberating over whether or not he should invite the guy in.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? Someone, probably Sharpy, although they’re probably all in it together, had booked a male stripper. A dude. And Kaner is into the dudes, okay? He is, but he didn’t think they knew that, and if this is just a joke, then the joke is on them.

“Sir, are you the homeowner?” The stripper asks.

His voice isn’t what Kaner was expecting, more monotone than anything, yet still somehow manages to sound judgemental. 

Kaner narrows his eyes, ready to get on the defence when he realises that there’s no point. 

Instead he just swallows, tries to steady himself and says, “Hi, yes, I’m Patrick Kane,” and holds his hand out to shake in a fleeting moment of panic. 

He just doesn’t know what to do with his hands, okay?

“I know who you are, sir,” the stripper answers, looking distastefully at Kaner’s outstretched hand, “I’m Deputy Jonathan Toews. Like I was saying, are you the homeowner? We’ve received some complaints.” 

He asks, “Can I call you Jonny?” instead of answering. 

He’s never really been into the roleplaying thing, but he gets it that Jonny has a job to do.

Still, Kaner kind of just wants to rub his face over Jonny’s face. 

“Wait, you know who I am?” Kaner smirks, “You a hockey fan?” 

Jonny smirks now, says, “No, I’m just a police officer. Whenever we get bored we decide to send a car around just to see what you’re up to. It usually gives us something to do.” 

Kaner pauses then, but he’s quickly distracted by Sharpy bouncing over to see what’s going on. 

“This is Jonny,” Kaner introduces them, “the stripper you ordered.” 

He reminds himself to ask Sharpy later on how they knew he was into dudes.

Sharpy starts, “We didn’t–“ but then someone else must’ve overheard what Kaner was saying because suddenly the music is being turned down and everyone’s eyes have turned to the door. 

Without the background noise, Kaner can overhear the static from the radio that’s perched on Jonny’s shoulder. The weapons slung over his waist are more than he expected, but he guesses this was the celebration to pull out all the stops and go to a bigger company than they usually would. 

Someone deeper in the house yells out, “Are you going to let him in?” and then Kaner’s standing out of the way, holding the door open to let a cautious-looking Jonny walk into the apartment. 

The radio crackles to life, but Kaner misses it, catches a couple of words asking what the progress is. Jonny says something back, maintaining eye contact with Kaner the whole time, and Kaner is weirdly getting into Jonny’s dedication to his character, okay? 

The next few minutes are filled with the most awkward lapdance Kaner’s ever received, and he has received a few in his time. 

“Is this your first time?” Kaner asks, hands hovering over Jonny’s side like he’s too scared to touch.

And, okay, he’s never been shy. He has never hesitated or felt out of place in a situation like this, but this feels different. Jonny feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin, and not in a particularly sexy way, even if it is still sort of doing it for Kaner. 

“You could say that,” Jonny answers, fiddling with the buckle on his belt. 

“Don’t’ those usually just rip off?” Kaner asks, feeling his face grow red as someone catcalls. 

Somewhere in the middle of the lapdance, when Kaner is growing hard despite the laughter of his teammates that surrounds him, despite the disapproving looks Sharpy is throwing his way, he realises. He almost pushes Jonny away, has to sit on his hands to stop himself, because he gets it. 

Jonny isn’t a stripper. 

He’s a cop. Like, a real actual live cop. 

Oh shit.

He wants to puke.

“Oh my God,” he says, and the look Jonny shoots him is approving, like he thinks he’s doing this right, but then Jonny’s growing pale, like he knows that Patrick knows. 

“I have to go,” Jonny says, suddenly a couple of meters away from Kaner. 

And Kaner didn’t want to touch him before, but now he’s struck with the need to reach out, to haul him back.

“Remember to keep the music down,” he shouts, already halfway down the hallway and out the front door.

“What the fuck?” Kaner asks, searching for Sharpy through the crowd of people in the apartment, each person looking as equally stunned and confused as Kaner feels. 

***

“You’re going to get us arrested,” Sharpy says, fiddling with the radio of Kaner’s Hummer, “Is he really worth this?” 

“I sexually assaulted a police officer,” Kaner answers, his voice higher than usual, “I should have been arrested. I should turn myself in.” 

Sharpy rolls his eyes. They’ve been going over this argument for the last hour and a half, even though they both know there’s no way Kaner’s going to walk in there and say, “I bad touched an officer.”

It’s the day after the party, and Kaner is probably still sweating straight vodka. After Jonny left he only drank more, trying to laugh the incident off even though he couldn’t. He talked Sharpy into coming down to the precinct with him, if only because he knew he was over the limit and couldn’t drive himself. 

Now, though, they’re sitting out the front in what is probably the world’s most anti-climactic stakeout. 

Sharpy turns the dial again until the station is nothing but static. He slowly creeps the volume up until Kaner is thinking about viciously murdering him, or himself, he hasn’t decided yet. 

“How do you even know he works at this station?” 

“This is where he works, Sharpy.”

Sharpy hums, “Do you think getting arrested for stalking a cop is worse than soliciting sex from one?” 

“We didn’t have sex,” Kaner whisper-yells, rolling his eyes when Sharpy laughs, “shut up. It’s not funny. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I’m sorry I thought it was obvious that the Deputy with the stick up his ass was in fact a Deputy.” 

“Well, it wasn’t. Cops don’t look like that.” 

“He does.”

Kaner just hums noncommittally. 

Sharpy is fiddling with the radio again when Kaner has enough. 

“That’s it! Get out. Stop. Go get coffee, or something. I’ll call you when I’m done.” 

“Finally,” Sharpy sighs, opening his door to get out. 

Kaner closes his eyes and sinks back down in his seat. It’s ridiculous, he knows. Why should he care this much? It was an accident, and Jonny, well _Deputy Toews_ , went along with it. Still, he wants to apologise. 

He kind of also wants to check if that crack about the police checking up on Kaner whenever they’re having a quiet day was just a joke or not. It would explain a few things. 

When he opens his eyes he feels as if the air has been punched right out of his lungs. He closes his eyes, opens them again, and blinks. No. No no no. Absolutely not. No.

He fumbles for the keys, grabs them out of the ignition before practically lunging out of the car and towards Sharpy. 

Sharpy, who’s taken it upon himself to enter the police station. 

Sharpy, who Kaner is going to murder in cold blood. 

He screams as much as he makes his way towards his friend, ignoring the stunned stares of onlookers. He knows it’s probably not the smartest thing to be yelling, especially not when he is where he is, but he can’t stop himself. 

Sharpy’s just disappeared into the station when Kaner finally catches up to him, and the several police officers milling around the front desk says that they’ve been waiting ever since the commotion started up outside. 

Kaner quickly looks around the room, trying to assess the situation and whether or not Deputy Toews is present, but he also doesn’t want to risk making eye contact with him just in case. 

“What’s going on?” 

And yep, he’s here. Kaner sighs. He recognises that voice, if only because of its monotone, if only because he’s been replaying each and every sentence Deputy Toews said, trying to parse out if there were any clues that he wasn’t in fact a stripper. 

“Nothing, we were just going,” he answers, grabbing for Sharpy’s arm to pull him outside, “we just had a misunderstanding.” 

“Is everything okay, sir?” Someone asks, and Kaner wants to snap at them and tell them to mind their own business, he wants to assure them that everything’s fine _thanks_ , but they’re not talking to him. 

They’re looking at Sharpy, and assessing Kaner as if he’s the threat. 

He swallows and makes eye contact with the ground, willing himself to stay quiet. He doesn’t need this to get any bigger than it already is. He doesn’t need to get arrested over something this ridiculous. 

Sharpy looks from the police officers to Kaner, who has all but closed in on himself, and then back to Deputy Toews who looks just as upset. 

“I, uh, just wanted to use the vending machine?” He offers. 

Kaner punches him in the shoulder, hard, and all the cops tense but no one does anything to stop him from walking out.

“Are you sure you’re okay, sir?” Another one asks, this one keeping his eyes on Kaner. 

“Like he said,” Sharpy answers, making eye contact with Toews, “it was just a misunderstanding. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to decide what candy to get. This may take a while.” 

When he looks up, Toews is already making excuses to the other officers, is making his way out to Kaner.

The thing is, though, summer in Chicago isn’t that bad. The nice weather has everyone and their children outside, ready to bear witness to Patrick Kane’s inevitable meltdown. 

“I didn’t know!” He screams when he hears the footsteps approach him, immediately wincing when he notices everyone in the immediate area staring at him. Someone even reaches for their phone. Kaner is caught between throwing himself at them, if only to wrestle the phone away, and willing the ground to open up and swallow him.

The deputy just lowers his gaze, kicking his foot against the ground, “I know, I’m sorry that I led you on.” 

“I–“ Kaner stops, frowning, “Are you fucking with me right now? “

“I get it if you want to make a complaint,” the Deputy continues, “any of the officers inside will be able to help you.” 

“A complaint?” Kaner says, unable to stop the burst of hysterical laughter because honestly, what the fuck is going on, “I mean, you’re a pretty shit stripper but I don’t think the police station is the right place to complain about that.” 

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Toews asks, “It’s not like you were just pulling over to take a phone call; you’ve been here for two hours.”

Kaner narrows his eyes, “How do you know that?” 

“A journalist from Deadspin rang the station to ask for a statement on why we have Patrick Kane down here. Your car’s pretty hard to miss, you know?” 

Kaner swallows, “Right. What did you tell them?” 

Toews shrugs, “I didn’t take the call, but the station didn’t make a comment. We can’t stop whatever Deadspin chooses to run, though.” 

“Right.” 

They stand in silence, alternately making eye contact and looking away until Sharpy comes out of the station with his arms full of candy. 

“You’re kidding me,” he stills, looking at the pair, “you still haven’t sorted this out yet?” 

He grabs the keys from Kaner, makes to unlock the truck before throwing his candy in. 

“Look, Jonny,” Sharpy starts, looking as if he’s about to make some big speech, “we’re throwing another party tonight. You don’t know any good strippers, do you? The last one we got had no idea what was going on. Honestly, I don’t think he even had any training.” 

He snickers to himself, resolutely ignoring the deputy’s offended look and Kaner’s murderous glare, throwing himself into the driver’s seat to start up the truck. 

He beeps the horn when Kaner doesn’t make another move. 

“We’re not having a party,” he says, forcing himself to make eye contact, “but you could come over, if you want.”

“Will there be any strippers?” 

“God, I hope not.” 

Jonny smiles, “I guess I could make it then.”


End file.
